The Velvet Nightmare
by Fatebringer-16
Summary: When Yazoo makes his final stand on top of the ShinRa building, he thought it would all be over. The planet, however, had different designs on his future. Now he has to face his newfound humanity, and the evil that his own actions have brought.
1. Preface

Remnant Chronicles

**Episode One,**

_The Velvet Nightmare_

**Preface**

A single gunshot rings out, resounding for miles through the barren and desolate ruins of Midgar. It occupies the silence, fallen in the wake of a mighty battle, which had just come to an end.

The spiky haired champion crumples downward as the shot blows out through his chest, grazing his heart in its vicious wake. The strength fades from his knees, and they bend under the strain of his wounded heart.

"Let's all go home… together." The silvery haired gunman calls out, his brightly glowing arm sags, as he releases the grip he had on the weapon just fired. The colors are like a rainbow amidst the rain that hails down upon them, and the droplets force his lips to curl back in a wince of pain. Wisps of green pour off their bodies like steam.

"We can all have fun… together." The brute at his side adds in his somewhat innocent sounding voice.

Despite his pain, despite his mounting exhaustion, and despite his wounds, the spiky haired champion grunts and he wills his knees to straighten. He brings himself once again to his full height, sword held tightly in hand. He heaves in deep, labored breaths, that nearly make the pain unbearable.

His lips curl upwards as bares his teeth in an angry snarl. He uses his rage to fuel weakening muscles. In an instant he turns, rushing for them in a fleeting run, his massive sword scrapes the steel roof as he goes—a threat of what is to come.

Almost as one, he leaps, and they bring their arms up, littered with the luminescent materia. The power inside the crystals activates, becoming an azure flame that enshrouds both their arms as it grows instantly in size.

Just as he heaves his blade down, they unleash their attack, and the two forces meet. An explosion covers the entire rooftop, singeing its steel black for years to come.


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

_H-how…?_

Yazoo opened his eyes, focusing instantly on the wisping vapors that rolled off of where his arm should have been. He was prone on the far end of the roof, a large slab of steel jutted up before him, obviously saving him from the acidic raindrops cascading solemnly around him even now.

Dancing through the air around him were the green orbs of light which once had composed his arm. Before his eyes, they seemed to be reshaping themselves into flesh and bone. The whirling torrent of his arm and the shattered materia it had held fluttered just beyond his sanctum of steel as they seemed to go about their task, whatever that may have been.

He struggled to stand, but it proved harder than he had anticipated, as his feet gave way to green wisps. He ignored it, crawling along by his knees, hoping his more evenly distributed weight would not cause his frail and brittle body any more damage. Even now, he struggled toward the tumulus cells, reaching out for their embrace.

It almost seemed as though the flying cells had noticed his approach, whizzing and whirling like hungry mosquitoes towards him. It wasn't long until they engulfed him, encircling his body as they darted around and through him as they pleased, destroying some of his cells and replacing others.

"M-mother?" he called out weakly, praying for a response.

The only one he received was when the wisps of lifestream picked up speed, merging with his cells as they ate through others like a rapidly spreading virus. He shuttered as his bare arm began to take form again, followed by his feet. He could feel it inside of him, a heart, lungs, and kidneys.

He skin seemed to dissolve temporarily as the wisps wrapped around to form his colon and brain, returning only once all internal organs were in place. His new lungs gasped for air, a sensation he had never before experienced, and blood seemed to rush through his hands, warming them with life.

Yazoo was being born.


	3. Act One: Life

**Act One – Life**

You open your eyes even as your mind still spins, your head throbbing endlessly as it screams out for relief. You can feel the blood coursing through your body, feeding your functions with life-giving power. You try to inhale deeply, but nothing steadies the spinning sensation in your head and gut. You're walking—tripping would probably better describe it—through the streets. You don't know how you got off the top of the Shinra tower, all you know is you're in the ruins of the slums, and there is no longer a sun in the sky, its luminous grace long past slipped into the amber hued distance.

Your eyes see shapes now for the first time, and colors slowly begin to become evident. You've seen them before, but not visually. Before, you sensed them, because you had no eyes to look upon them with. The density of your body seems unusual to you, your previous aloof foot gone, replaced by one that leaves a print in the soft dirt you scramble through even now.

Bile creeps up the back of your throat, you do not enjoy the feeling but you savor it all the same, just as you savor the ashen taste in your mouth, they all represent what it means to be alive.

You give pause, your hands searching for what your blurred vision cannot see. You bring its soft skin to your lips before you hold it in front of your eyes.

A single, white, petal—still fresh.

As you force your eyes into focus, you see a large structure in front of you, its doors seemingly busted off at the hinges, and a long center isle that leads your gaze into the fuzzy glimmer beyond.

You stretch your muscles, relieved that the sensation is not another in a long string of unpleasant ones, like the cold wind that beats against your naked flesh.

You stand at your full height, and slowly stride into the church.

_Her_ church.

- - - - -

The wooden planks covering the floor squealed out as he softly laid bare foot, one after another, upon them, making his way to the misty pool of water at the isle's end. Even though this action felt alien to him, he couldn't help but feel like he had done it a thousand times before, only with scatterings of people dotting the pews, sometimes listening to something, others talking amongst themselves.

He watched a small child skitter past him, calling out as his chased his little sister, and his father quickly followed to quell his unruly tike. Not ten feet past him, and they all faded away into the air, just as suddenly as they had come.

It occurred to him then, of what Kadaj had spoken, of the memetic legacies that flow within the lifestream. These images… these people, they were long since dead, some maybe even hundreds of years. Their thoughts and memories left behind traces as they were reborn, little fragments of life that were crystallized into the materia that had saved his.

Crossing this isle now, he thought of Loz, who had been here several days ago. He had no way of knowing what happened to him after their last stand against Cloud, but he couldn't muster the will to care. His knees now wobbled, growing weary from his long trek through dust and debris.

Hesitantly, he looked down at the water beneath him, recognizing its glittering sheen of what it truly was.

This was rainwater.

It had taken Kadaj away from him, and probably Loz as well. This water had stung worse than the most poisonous of insects, and bitten harder than the most venomous of snakes, but now, it seemed to be calm and passive in his presence.

He knelt before it, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight that peered in from the massive hole in the crumbling roof above. In front of him was his own reflection, his bare chest heaving with each of his newfound breaths. He watched himself for quite a while as his knees relaxed, seemingly mesmerized by his own appearance.

Eventually, he brought up his hand, turning it as he looked at it now, studying each and every groove it held, pondering this existence.

Was this his reward for serving Jenova? Had she gifted him with his own body?

"No…" he mumbled, his throat quivering as he spoke his first word. His voice itself retained a measure of its original distance, sounding stern, but withdrawn, as he surveyed the water again.

He closed his eyes, decided on what to do as he let his weight lean forward, taking his body off his knees and sending him headlong into the water with a splash. He turned, bringing his back to touch against the bottom as he opened his eyes to look at the brilliant moon through the waving shield of the water's surface.

The water neither burned nor scarred his delicate flesh, accepting him, and embracing him. He let his mouth hang open, breathing deep its supple life. It seemed to fill him inside with a safe, secure warmth he had never before felt.

Seconds later he began to gag and choke on it, springing up to a sitting position as he spat most of it back out. Drops hung in his throat, and burned his nostrils as he sucked in air again and breathed deep and calm for several minutes without movement. He was enjoying the best gift of all he had received.

Free will.

His mind raced, astir with thought, and swirling in memory. He humored the though that some of it could be his, but dismissed it as he looked on the images of hundreds of lives. He knew deep down, remnants have no souls.

The thing that bothered him, was,

_Am I still a remnant… or am I human?_

He sat there, very still as the water caressed his naked form, the moonlight above coating him in a pale pearlescent sheen which sparkled and gleamed off his bright, silvery hair.

"M…mother?" he called out, his voice still hushed.

No reply.

"Mother, where are you? I'm still here… please… talk to me."

Nothing.

His head hung low, a defeated look passing over his brow as he looked at the shimmering surface of the water and finally noticed the one thing about his almost porcelain visage that was not the same as before.

His pupils were round.

"Mother?"

- - - - -

Several hours passed before he finally moved to stand. He had sat there, still and unmoving the entire time, locked in deep though and consideration. He silently pondered the things humans do regularly, but for the first time.

_What is the meaning of life?_

_Who am I?_

_Why am I here?_

_Where am I going?_

Unfortunately, he came up with the same answers everyone else does, and none of them did any good to comfort his confusion.

This time though, when he stood, there was no weakness, or fatigue. His vision was crisp, and his knees sturdy. He held up his hand in front of his eyes, and watched as he flexed it masterfully, taking a moment to orient himself. As he stepped out of the water, his balance was perfect, and his breathing steadied.

Droplets of water dripped down his nude form, splashing back into the pool as he rose from it. He walked down the same isle again, only this time, he walked it easy, and determined.

He had a plan.


	4. Act Two: Memory

**Act Two – Memory**

The air hung now, as Yazoo walked beyond the stone walls of the church. The wind was dead and silent, its wicked bite no longer nipping at his flesh. He would have been glad of this, if he had known the feeling of stepping out into the wind while wet. It wasn't much longer until he was introduced to yet another exotic, but this time much more intense feeling.

Pain.

He lifted his foot slowly, wincing only as he laid eyes on the jagged shard of glass that protruded from its heel. Taking care, he slid it out, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain as tears welled in his beautifully emerald-green eyes. He dropped the bloodstained fragment to the ground, watching it shatter on impact.

His feet tread softly now, away from the dilapidated old building, heading down the path with much more care to avoid the scattered debris. The night was waning and the stars clear in the sky above. The massive machines in the distance long since bereft of the smog they used to produce.

Though he was unaware of it, his human instinct took over, his arms wrapping around his body as he tried to warm himself. It was not long until he found a dirty brown tarp hanging off a pipe that jutted out from one of the piles of trash and took it to wrap around him instead as he shivered within.

The two walls of trash to each of his sides now parted before him, revealing the massive plate of solid steel that had once stood as the only barrier to separate the sectors. A large archway sat at its center, closed shut by the massive side of the plate that had once loomed overhead. To his right side, he saw two large, cat-shaped domes, one with a slide that rolled off of it and pointed towards him. Nearby on his left was a swing set, long since untouched.

All about them were kids, scattered over and under, playing games, laughing, and having fun. He watched a young boy come down the slide towards him, but he disappeared at the point when he would have collided with the silvery-haired youth. All around him they held hands, running before falling down on purpose and laughing about that too.

In minutes, they were gone, and the playground was still untouched, dust almost an inch thick coated one of the swings, and a large girder of steel reached out from one of the domes, seemingly impaled there forever.

He moved to the nearest swing, brushing it off before sitting down on it gently. He didn't move for a while, and then he swayed forward and back, and soon he picked his feet just off the ground, letting gravity take him as his body weight shifted back and forth. Another new sensation now adorned his face, though he had done it before, but not with the muscles to make it seem real.

He was smiling.

- - - - -

The far off sun gently crested the forgotten ruins of Midgar, painting rubble and wreckage in a soft early-morning hue of red and orange. The light reached into crevices that had rarely seen its radiance, once covered by a massive plate to shield its world into eternal, electric twilight. It was only do to the destruction at Sephiroth's hands that it no longer hung there, and now no people remained to enjoy it.

All about him, Yazoo noticed empty houses, doors still ajar. When Meteor came, many of the residents fled without any possessions, and far too many cared not to ever return and claim anything they once held dear. It was nearly a poetic irony that these peopled had dreamed of having a sunlit day, only to never see it occur from here.

Though these buildings held no interest for a remnant, Yazoo was searching for something else entirely. For a while he had smelt it, a wonderful smell he had not experienced before, but yet, had seemed familiar. As he followed it, he came into a brilliantly beautiful field, smack-dab in the heart of the machine city around him. He was stunned and amazed to see grass and flowers on a path up to a weathered looking home on the hill. Around him were trees too, many bearing apples that shone crisp in the rising gleam of the sun.

Yazoo continued on past the house, staring awe-fully at the waterfall which cascaded down and filled the river to flow beside him. Its rumble was fierce and dangerous, but yet at the same time, impressive and humbling.

He picked his way through the dense fields of flowers and vegetation, making sure he brought harm to none of them.

It was then he noticed her, standing amidst the trees as the wind brought a swirl of blossoms up that seemed to dance about her face with a gentle caress. Her brown bangs brushed across her perfect face as the wind pushed at the pink ribbon that kept her coppery hair in check. He found his feet unable to move as he stared at her, his mind racing. Though it was she who acted, craning her neck to the side as she smiled at him before moving to disappear into the patch of flowers beside her.

He pursued her quickly, coming around the corner to find yet another woman, but she was clearly much older. She was identical to her in some ways though, both their hair were pulled back into a ponytail, though her's was streaked with grey, quite the opposite of the feathery haired brunette he had chased. Her face also carried wisdom, indicative in the creases that adorned it like old war-wounds.

"You saw her too?" she spoke, not even looking at him to do so. Her voice was strong, but laced with the frailty of age. "I may not be much of a looker anymore, but I taught her how to style herself."

He stared at her now too; intrigued with her actions as she went about picking flowers from the bush she knelt before.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice trailing and weary.

She smiled at the question, raising her head from her work as she smiled into the wind. "She was my daughter… she grew these."

He looked at the flowers, finally understanding that they were the scent that had brought him here. They seemed to glitter with an almost unnatural glow, as if they stood a testament to life.

"She told me you'd come," the woman stood slowly before using the back of her hand to wipe her forehead. "You're looking for answers to questions that have none." She smiled and she looked into his eyes. Her carefully aged beauty lit up by the growing sunlight that beamed through the valley of steel.

He paused for a long while, not turning away, nor avoiding her intense gaze. It seemed like an eternity for him to formulate the question in all of its entirety, but in the end, it was very short.

"Why?" he muttered.

She paused too, waiting a moment, though not nearly as long as his. She didn't seem to be thinking of anything, merely waiting for the gentle breeze to pass before she spoke.

"Because you're human."

_I am?_

"Now…" she muttered, placing the basket of flowers over her arm. "Let's get you inside and find you some better clothes," she stopped to look him over. "And some shoes for those feet… they look terrible!"

He followed her as she moved back to her house. After they crossed the stream, she sensed he was no longer following, and turned to see him staring off into the distance, a look of sadness on his face. She moved closer to him, coming to stop at his side. They remained there in silence, for many minutes as he tried to come to an understanding to his new realization.

"You've lost someone, haven't you?" she asked, her hand resting gingerly on his shoulder.

"Yes."

She reached into her basket, pulling out two beautiful flowers and put them in his hand. When he stared at her confused, she laughed quietly, "You throw them in. This water will take them where they belong."

He looked to them then, he could almost see Kadaj and Loz standing in front of him. The feeling was strange to him, because it felt less like losing someone he knew, and more like losing a part of himself. He nodded then, letting them fall into the bubbling stream and said a silent goodbye.

_Don't cry, Yazoo…_ The words of Loz echoed in his mind.

He didn't.


	5. Act Three: Healing

**Act Three – Healing**

He sat across the table from her as she doused the washcloth she had picked up from the sink into the tub of water she'd filled in the stream. He watched her in silence, feeling uncomfortable as he didn't know he could. It was not her presence that did this though, but the clothes that grated against his skin. He was wearing a dark brown shirt, three sizes too big for him, along with lighter pants of the same size. She had told him he would get used to it, but he didn't imagine how.

When she was ready, she lifted his foot, wiping the scars and bruises with the moistened rag. It almost tickled him, and he pondered at the feeling, but she was an educated touch, and it was not unbearable. She dipped the cloth into the water again, and again, but by the third or fourth time, he looked at his foot and noticed the injuries were gone, healed completely.

His eyes trailed from his foot to her eyes as she set it back down and rinsed the cloth before grabbing the other foot.

"Rainwater, Aeris' healing wind…" she muttered, her tone always fond at this subject. "Her greatest gospel,"

Yazoo eyes fought off the urge to close shut, and he fought back the dreams that threatened to overtake him. For the first time since he had emerged from the pond, he was finding the allure of sleep all too hard to resist, and his eyes fluttered.

"I don't understand…" he mumbled, leaning up to force himself awake. "Before, the rain… it… it burned, but… now…"

"Let's get you some rest," she said as she rose and dropped the washcloth into the bucket, moving to help him to his feet. "There's a nice warm bed upstairs… you need some sleep."

"W-why…?"

She paused with him at the steps, taking a moment to answer. "She forgives you."

His head lolled forward, and she continued her ascent. It was arduous, but soon enough she had him tucked neatly into one of the upstairs bedrooms, a nice flower printed pillow for him to rest his weary silver head.

The last thing he saw before his eyes shut, was her flicking the light out, and closing the door.

- - - - -

Darkness.

_No… no, don't. Please!_

_Let go of her! She doesn't know anything, you monsters!_

_Tell us where she is…_

_Tseng, I…_

_Elena! Stop it! Stop hurting her!_

Velvet. The color of blood.

_What a mess… _

_You bastard!_

_You had her on the chopper… Didn't you? Where did you take Mother?_

_Tseng… d-don't…_

_Stop… stop hurting her!_

_Where!?_

_Stop it… please… stop…_

_Tell me where!?_

_H…Healin… Healin Lodge…_

_There… that wasn't so hard, was it?_

_Let her go!_

_I'm afraid I don't give up cards so early in the game…_

_What?_

_Who are you!? Stop!_

A voice, as cold as steel. Resolute, and unwavering.

_I'm taking these two with me._

Bang!

_My… my arm… brother!_

_You're one of Big Brother's friends, aren't you? Stop! Come back!_

_- - - - - _

You shoot up in bed, the cold beads of sweat still clinging to your hair, which is in turn clinging to you. The sheets are wet with it, the cold sweat of your fear. But you don't understand it. You didn't feel bad when it happened, in fact, you caused some of it. You didn't have a soul then though, you didn't have this humanity. You don't even quite remember your first thought, and wonder if you ever had one of your own before.

You must have been screaming, because she runs in and comes to see if you are ok. You don't remember how you got here, but that itchy shirt is on the chair beside the bed. You don't know what time it is, or how long you've been asleep, but the nightmares were nearly unending. She tells you you've been sleeping for twelve hours, but you're not even sure you understand how long that is.

You bring into question your thoughts. How do you know there are twenty-four hours in a day? You never learned this that you can remember. You've only been around for several weeks in your prospective, but yet you remember things, things that never happened, things that never could of happened.

You remember most a war, the greatest pinnacle of shared memory floating about the lifestream currently to your imagination, the last large scale battle that brought Wutai to its knees. You remember the smile you had on your face as you crushed the evil doers beneath your heel and came marching into their city with your sword slung over your shoulder.

The face you remember isn't you though, nor is the weapon yours, or the fierce eyes that gleam out from behind silver bangs of hair. But that smile… that's you. That way his head is craned, that gentle laugh, that saunter of superiority… That is definitely yours.

But what are you then? A smile? Smiles don't have personalities, they don't have souls… but for some reason you believe you do. You can feel the planet; even now you can feel it in your bones. You don't hear it… very few do these days, but you feel it, you feel it more intensely than most, you feel its pain, because,

You caused it.

You caused all of it. Not you though, you were there, you were the smile on his face, you were that taunting gleam in his eye.

But if you know who you were, then how do you find out who you are?

- - - - -

"I'm fine." He said softly.

Her head nodded, unconsciously. He could tell in her face, something was wrong. He never could understand it before, how humans knew things about each other without words, but now he saw it, he saw it clear as day.

"What is it," he began, his voice calm and cold. "This feeling of yours?"

"Oh?" she looked at him better, and realized he had noticed it. "Yes, yes, I have been meaning to say something. I didn't know how… you make me uncomfortable with that look, and those eyes. I've seen that look before, that look in your eye. Every time he came back from a battle I saw it on the T.V., and every time I wanted to hurt him."

He watched her, a slight anger inside her, but well controlled, almost long forgotten.

"He'd return safe and sound, while good men died for no reason. He couldn't understand it… we all thought he was stupid. Shinra workers called him 'special', but that's just a nice way of putting it. He didn't question orders, and he didn't understand… I tried hard… I tried to blame him for killing my husband, but I couldn't blame him sooner than I could Shinra… but Aeris… I blame him for Aeris."

He blinked, a memory coming to mind as his lips wanted to curl into a grin.

_Because… you are a puppet._

He stopped it though, looking down on the woman again.

"I tried hard to hide it, I wanted to forget, but…" she trailed off, waiting a moment before getting back to it. "I tried not to hate you… I—"

She stopped, clearly not interested in continuing. He nodded, acknowledging he understood her, but he didn't understand what she meant. He felt like he knew, like there was a part of him deep down inside that felt remorse, but he could not see it, nor did it change his stoic face.

"I'll keep you here, because she asked me too, but… I'd appreciate it if you'd leave soon… After you've got an idea of where to go."

"I will." He nodded, not sure why, but all the same it didn't seem to matter. She looked at him, as if she expected something different. Finally, he added, "Thank… Thank you."

She rose from the bed, moving over towards the door.

"So… You aren't him."

She shut the door.


End file.
